Hidden
by ShutUpAndPull
Summary: A quick one-shot: the result of me stumbling upon the following prompt: "Castle can't help but snoop" and finding it amusing to think about. Set during ep 5x01.


_**Hidden**_

In a city where space was so coveted, what a tragic waste of it that closet was. That's the thought loop that ran through Rick's brain as he stood between its walls, forced there by a new secret they'd just moments ago agreed to keep. Sure, he loved Kate's clothes, always noticed and appreciated how they accentuated her modelesque body in just the right way, but now that he'd seen that body without them, quite frankly, he never wanted to see her wearing any of them ever again. _Waste of space_.

There he now was, in the jaws of the enemy, face-to-face with a fresh foe, amongst the fruits of Kate's very dangerous labor by virtue of Ryan's unexpected knock at her front door, just as things were beginning to heat up again after a night of nothing but heat. Punishment is what it felt like, really, for being in the right place at the wrong time.

Kate had flipped on the light when she'd swiftly shoved him inside, and his eyes traveled the space, every square inch of it filled with fabric- leather, lace, and everything in between- folded, hung, draped, and hooked. It seemed, at quick glance, all colors of the spectrum were represented, organized fastidiously in a perfectly-Kate system of all things in their place- much like one of her cases, each puzzle piece coming together to form a magnificent whole picture. He had to admire it. Not surprising. He admired everything else about her.

Rick could hear their faint voices seeping in from the other room, not the words, but the muffled tones of conversation. It was odd. He should've felt as though he was missing out on something, curious to a fault in that Rick Castle way, but the scent of her, trapped there in the clothing both worn and fresh, was so deliciously dizzying that he realized he didn't much care. The only thing he found himself curious about was what hidden treasure he might come to uncover if he pinned on his honorary NYPD badge and did some of his own investigating.

It was overwhelming, to be certain, the decision as to where to begin, with so many points of interest tempting him with their textures and hues and as yet unrevealed life stories. _Why was a price tag still dangling from this? Who'd been lucky enough to see her in that? _A thousand questions inundated his already sensory-overloaded mind as his hands began their examination of the scene.

He remembered that dress. Very, very well. That night, that club, that undercover work that wasn't at all a date, except she'd seen him look at her as it hugged her body like he'd wished it was- which he had. And those boots, those impossibly tall boots she'd demanded he pull from her feet before she'd fearlessly climbed up his body, leaving a titillating giggle behind in his ear. Then the jackets. All the jackets- one for every day, maybe: orange for chasing zombies on Tuesday, wool for distracting an unsuspecting thug in an alley on Friday, black leather for-

Wait.

He'd seen so many of them in four years. Black leather was a trusted Kate Beckett companion, a statement of fierceness, a mandate to watch and to listen, to pay close attention to what was to come next. But that one, there, in the corner, hanging protectively behind the others, felt entirely new. His fingertips slid gently down the exposed sleeve and his skin came alive with a charge. He licked his lips with anticipation as he reached up and pulled the hanger from the bar, his eyes feasting on the surprise he hadn't known awaited him.

This jacket had a partner, hidden beneath its diagonal zippers and well-placed snaps. They were barely visible at first. If he hadn't been so drawn to it, so thorough in his visible inspection, he might've missed them entirely.

But he hadn't missed them. There they were: matching leather pants. No, he most certainly would've remembered _those_.

"What're you doing, Castle? Are you going through my stuff?"

He wondered if he'd really heard his name or if it was all in his head.

"Give me that!" she hissed, grabbing the hanger from his hand and returning it to its home.

"I'm sorry, I-just-I-saw-" he stammered, snapping out of his daze. He hadn't heard her coming. He had no idea how long she'd been standing there.

"Ryan's gone," she said. "You can come out now. I'd apologize, but I get the impression you enjoyed yourself. Too much, probably."

He followed her out into the bedroom and stood close as she took a seat on the edge of the bed. "He didn't suspect anything, did he?" he asked, a clear attempt at deflecting attention from the lingering sore spot.

"I handled it just-"

"Was that your Harley outfit?" he interjected, with the giddiness of a child on Christmas morning who'd just peeled back the wrapping paper on the very gift he wanted most.

She felt the temperature of her skin rise from the buzz of his excitement. Something inside her was glad he'd found it, was suddenly turned on by his clear fascination with it. "I'm not sure you deserve to know. Snooping around my closet, Castle? Really? You can't control yourself for ten minutes?"

"Well, I wasn't so much snooping as admiring, actually. It's like a museum in there, an art gallery. I just wanted to see everything."

"And it seems you have now, haven't you?" She wasn't angry. She wasn't upset. Honestly, she found the idea of him among her things quite arousing. It's what she'd wanted for so long. "_And_?"

"And?" he echoed, unclear as to what it was she wanted to hear.

"And, did you enjoy seeing it?" It was radiating off of him just how much he had.

"Oh, very much." His tone changed from nervous to confident in a matter of seconds. "In fact, do you remember the Catwoman outfit Michelle Pfeiffer wore in that Batman movie years ago?"

"Not really, no."

"Yeah, now neither do I." He turned his head toward the closet and then back to her. "What's it going to take for you to put that on, right now, for me?" His confidence was now hunger.

"I told you before, Castle. I don't think you can handle me in that thing."

Rick extended his hand for hers and pulled her up from the bed. "I'm quite certain I proved last night just how well I _can_ handle you. And you seemed very pleased with the outcome." He leaned in to her ear. "All three times," he whispered.

His breath tickled her neck and she pulled back, her eyes falling immediately to his mouth, remembering. "And what do _I_ get if I do this for you, huh?" Oh how she couldn't wait for his answer.

"How about round four? Is that incentive enough for you?"

Kate didn't say a word as she stepped around him and headed for the closet, a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth.

xxxx


End file.
